


A Kiss Is Not Enough

by isitandwonder



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, RPF, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: Inspired by this story I've been told: Armie and Timmy were inseparable at the party after the New York Times screening, hanging out outside, smoking weed… and then there was the pic of Armie on the plane with dark sunglasses while Timmy posted himself dancing on his Insta (high as a kite if you ask me), presumably the next morning…This is the story of what might have happened in between.





	A Kiss Is Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first RPF and my first venture into this fandom. Please be kind. Btw, I’m not Americain. The last time I was in New York was 1994 - so please excuse all the mistakes I’ve made…
> 
> For Monikakrasnorada!  
> Usual RPF disclaimer: I don't know these people, this is a work of ficiton, nothing featured in this story happened for real.

**I know what I'm needin', and I don't want to waste more time**  
**I'm in a New York state of mind**  


„Hey, here you are...“ Timmy was slurring the words a bit, but that didn't have to mean he was drunk, it could just be his New York accent breaking through after a long day. They'd done press junkets all day yesterday and again today since mid-morning, followed by another screening of their film, followed by Timmy being ushered away to go on Jimmy Fallon while the rest of the family went over to party at Bar 54.

After having a few drinks with colleagues and fans – all clapping his back, shaking his hand, hugging him tight and telling him what a great film they'd made – Armie had eventually felt the need of a few moments alone to himself. His life right now was just crazy and if he didn't slow down in between he might loose his shit right here and now.

And Timmy was nowhere to be seen. 

No need to mingle and chatter if he wasn't there. Them locking eyes over a room full of excited people had been the one thing keeping him sane during this promo tour, and now Armie could feel he was wearing thin, strung so tight that he might burst.

So he went outside, despite it being almost freezing, excusing himself to have a smoke. On the balcony, looking over mid-town Manhattan, he'd leaned back against the glass wall, rolling a joint and lighting up as his head fell back as he gazed up into a violet night-sky. Inhaling deeply, some of his tension melted away.

Until he was called back to reality by his lanky co-star making an appearance. God, he was beautiful, all those dark curls above that angular face, red lips pulled into a happy grin while a slight flush had crept into his cheeks.

“Man, it's freezing out here, what are you doing?” Timmy reached out, grinning even wider as Armie passed him the joint.

“Hey, boy wonder. How was your first late night?” Armie smiled as well, both due to the grass and being genuinely glad because of Timmy's return.

“Oh god, I hope I didn't embarrass myself too much.” Timmy sighed, looking up at Armie through his thick lashes.

“Jimmy's one of the nicer guys. I'm sure you did fine.” Their fingertips brushed as Timmy passed the spliff back. It felt like an electric shock.

Timmy didn't look away as he stepped closer, almost huddling against Armie's body. He was just wearing a black suit and a white dress shirt, which was totally inadequate for the cold weather of November New York. Armie had at least been smart enough to grab his thick leather jacket before stepping outside, and now parted it a little to allow for Timmy's hands to slip beneath.

“You'll catch dead.” He said, swallowing hard.

“Then I'll die happy.” Timmy mumbled, leaning in until his nose almost brushed Armies collar bone.

“Are you drunk?” Armie asked, his voice a little strangled.

“No. Why?” Timmy's hand reached for the joint again, dangling half forgotten from Armie's limb fingers, brushing his knuckles. “I'm just cold. In need of some body heat.”

They both laughed but it sounded a bit forced. Timmy blew out smoke, tilting his head just slightly to exhale over Armie's shoulder, barring his white throat. Armie suddenly wanted to lick it and had to close his eyes.

“I'm sure there's someone inside there to provide plenty of it. You're a star tonight.” He said, truly proud of his co-star in front of him.

“ _We_ are stars tonight, Armie. And I don't want to share that with anybody else.” Timmy held the half-smoked joint up to Armie's lips. 'Oh, fuck it', he thought, before taking another drag. The marijuana started to make his head nicely fuzzy, his brain buzzing as if wrapped in cotton wool.

Timmy was so close he had to squint to get him into focus.

“You're a hopeless, soppy, maudlin, smoochy...” But he couldn't finish his sentence because suddenly, warm lips were pressed to the corner of his mouth. He froze.

“Don't.” Armie whispered. “Don't do that. You have no idea...” He couldn't move. He didn't want to, despite knowing that he should.

“Press tour is coming to an end. We might not see each other for weeks. I have to...” Timmy whispered, his lips quivering. Was it the cold?

“No!” Armie pulled Timmy in for a quick, tight hug. “We'll never... no!” He shook his head, resting his chin atop Timmy's curls. It was true. It could be weeks before they'll meet again, probably during awards season, when they would be handed around at parties, doing interview after interview without time to themselves, too busy to talk...

“I want...” Timmy mumbled into the depth of Armie's coat, falling silent, all bravado leaving him as he felt the man holding him inhale sharply. “Sorry.” He pulled back a little, straightening. “Where's Elizabeth?”

Armie stared him square in the face, making a decision. “She had to fly to Texas after the screening. Work there in the morning.”

Timmy nodded. Suddenly, he hissed in pain as the forgotten joint started to burn his fingers. “Shit!” He said, dropping the spliff and bringing his hand up to look at it. But Armie was faster, grabbed his slim wrist and pulled his index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking wetly. Timmy's knees almost buckled. “Fuck!” He breathed.

“Not here.” Armie smirked, releasing his hand with a last swirl of tongue. “I'd never forgive myself if the mother of my children learns from someone's Twitter that we made out.” He pressed a soft kiss to Timmy's palm. “I'll go back inside now, make a few rounds, then excuse myself and leave. We're all staying at The Knickerbocker, just round the corner. I'm in room 327.”

“Room 327.” Timmy repeated, a little dazed.

“It's up to you, really. But, if you like to come...” He shrugged before entangling himself and making for the door back inside. He looked over his shoulder once before vanishing from Timmy's sight, his blond hair tousled by the icy wind, his eyes shining very blue.

'Finally', Timmy thought, smiling as he pulled his jacket tighter around his narrow shoulders. 'Finally!' He gazed out over New York, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest.

 

About an hour later, there's a knock at the door of room 327. Armie takes a deep breath before opening, his hand shaking slightly as he places it on the handle.

'This is it. Here we go. No turning back.' It feels both frightening and inciting.

This moment had been coming for them for a long time. Since that afternoon in Italy, rolling around on a patch of grass with each others tongues down their throats despite having just met the previous day.

Timmy looks a little flushed. He's panting. “I ran over here. Took the stairs because that elevator...” He can't finish his sentence because Armie pulls him inside the room, presses him against the closed door and kisses him.

Deep.

Open-mouthed.

With tongue and a little teeth.

Timmy whimpers, parting his lips, opening eagerly. Armie licks inside, tasting tobacco, peppermint and beer. Timmy tastes like teenage night-outs.

They claw at each other, pulling at pieces of fabric, hands clenching clumsily despite their bodies knowing each other so well. But this is the real thing. It's different yet familiar. They are both too excited, too turned on, too afraid to go slow.

They stumble back into the main room, shedding clothes all around them. Timmy's courier bag hits the floor with a heavy thump and they break apart like being caught out. Their shock quickly dissolves into a giggling fit as they look at each other, breathing heavily, Timmy's shirt untucked and half open, Armie's jeans unbuttoned.

“Let's slow down a little, shall we?” He proposes, being the responsible adult here. Timmy's hands fly up to his dark hair, brushing it back, then shaking his head.

“No!” He says, almost jumping Armie, who falls back with the sudden momentum, luckily hitting the king-size bed.

Timmy's hands are everywhere, tugging, skittering, fumbling. He's straddling Armie's hips, pressing his cock against his hipbone. Armie can feel that he's already hard. God, the kids these days...

“Slow.Down.” He repeats, grabbing Timmy's wrists. The young man above him stills, eyes wide.

“Second thoughts? Getting cold feet?” He snarls, frustration getting the better off him.

Armie flips them both over, now towering above Timmy's lean frame with all his 6 ft. 5 inches.

“Shut up. I want to savor this, you...” He bows down to lick that exposed throat, sucking on Timmy's bobbing Adam's apple. He can feel him moan beneath his lips as his hips buck up in search for friction.

“Not so fast.” Armie murmurs, his stubble grazing over Timmy's sensitive skin.

“Fast?” Timmy pants. “I've been waiting for this for eighteen months.”

Armie smiles against his hot flesh. He, too.

They take their time undressing. It's not that they haven't seen each other naked before – but never alone. Back in Italy, they'd been always surrounded by people – cameramen, technicians, fellow actors – so the intimacy of this is both new and familiar.

Assuring in all its daunting novelty.

They kiss, suck and lick at every inch of exposed skin they can reach, Timmy arching up in Armie's arms, a beautiful pink flush spreading over his pale chest down to his concave belly. He so thin, Armie thinks, his tongue caressing his rib-cage, brushing over the ridges of his protruding pectorals. He looks so young, so precious.

He'll be very, very careful.

Suddenly, the enormity of what they are about to do hits him full force and he has to pull back.

“Have you ever...?” He pants, unable to voice what they're are heading for.

“What?” Timmy murmurs, as if resurfacing from somewhere deep below.

“Did someone, anyone... you know... ever... make love to you... like this?” Armie inwardly recoils from how very insecure he sounds.

Timmy stares up at him, eyes like saucers, two black holes in his pink, sweaty face. He just shakes his head, worrying his lower lip between his small, white teeth.

“I tried, a little... with my finger, back in Italy... to know how it feels...” He whispers against Armie's shoulder, pressing fluttering kisses to his heated skin. The visuals this confession brings up in Armie's mind make him groan with need. “But no one ever... touched me there. You'll be the first.”

Armie's head drops onto Timmy's sternum as he tries to breath through his nose to stay conscious.

“Okay, that's... wow. Okay.” He babbles, before looking up a Timmy's trusting face. “You want me to?” He asks.

“Yes.” Timmy nods, and there's no doubt in his eyes, just longing as he spreads his legs wide to give Armie access.

He slowly shimmies down the exposed body below him, nipping, kissing, tasting. His mouth hovers above Timmy's hard cock, circumcised like his own, the glistening crown resting in a nest of dark wiry pubes. Armie desperately wast to taste but doesn't, moving even further down, pushing Timmy's legs up and apart.

There's a shocked gasp from above as the tip of his tongue brushes behind Timmy's balls. Armie smiles against the wrinkled skin between Timmy's legs, licking decidedly down his seam before oh so slightly pressing his tongue against that unbelievably tight muscle.

“Oh fuck!”

Armie raises his head. “Luca told me about that. You like it?”

The answer is an incoherent string of curses.

“Good!”

Armie dives back down again and starts to lick and suck in earnest.

It should feel dirty but it doesn't. Timmy is writhing with pleasure, his soft, vulnerable entrance slowly giving way. When he's dripping slick with spit, Armie shuffles back a little and very carefully presses the tip of his thumb against the loosened rim, pushing inside.

Timmy throws his arm over his face and sighs. Until he so suddenly bolts upright that Armie almost falls off the mattress.

“Shit!”

“What?” Armie asks, confused. Did he hurt him? Was it too much?

“We need something... you know, greasy. O ease the way...” Timmy explains.

Armie grins. “It's called lube.”

Timmy just stares at him. “Whatever.”

Armie scrambles off the bed and over to his bag, his hard cock jutting out in front of him. He rummages through its pockets until he finds the bottle he's been looking for, along with a condom. He throws it over to Timmy who catches it and turns it into his hands.

“Why do you have... this?” He asks, sounding suspicious.

“Not because I planned to fuck you.” Armie explains. “I use it, sometimes... with toys.” He feels himself blush.

“Toys?” Timmy lets the word roll off his tongue, curious but also a little taken aback.

“Yes. Toys. Sometimes I like to use toys. Many men do.” He experiences the sudden need to cross his arms over his chest.

“What kind of toys?” Timmy gets on all four and literally prowls towards the edge of the bed.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Armie shakes his head, grinning lewdly. “Tonight it's just you and me.”

He takes his time to open Timmy up, going achingly slow, inserting one finger after another, giving Timmy plenty of time to adjust in between. He's on his hands and knees, legs slightly apart, arse raised in the air. His head has fallen onto his crossed arms on the mattress, his face buried in the crook of his arm, dark hair fanning out around him. He's unbelievably responsive.

Armie watches his fingers slide in and out of Timmy's body, the pink muscle stretching around his knuckles until is gives way while Timmy pants and curses, begs, pleads and sighs.

Eventually, he's ready. Armie rolls the condom on and lines his cock up. He's so hard that he's actually grateful for the thin rubber sheath. Otherwise, this would be over embarrassingly soon.

“No, wait.” Timmy says, stopping him.

“Sorry, we don't have to... if you don't want me to we can...” Armie has trouble breathing.

“What? No.” Timmy turns, getting on his back. “I want to see you when we do it.” He says, his face open and trusting.

Armie has to swallow. “That's not a good idea. Not the first time. It'll hurt. It's better... for you, to be on all four.” He explains, but god, does he want to watch Timmy when he breaches him for the first time.

“I don't care.” Timmy says, sitting up and pushing Armie back until he falls on his back.

“But I do.” Armie knows his protest sounds weak as he watches Timmy grab the lube, drizzling some more down onto his latex-covered cock before straddling his hips.

“Let me ride you.” Timmy breathes, and that's when Armie's brain somehow short-circuits. The next thing he knows is Timmy sinking down onto his hard shaft. The crown if Armie's cock is easily swallowed by Timmy's virgin hole and they both gasp.

Armie lets Timmy set the pace. He needs time to adjust, and his leg muscles quiver as he stops after every other inch of Armie's cock sliding inside him.

It takes ages. It feels so fucking good that neither of them want to stop. Ever.

Until Timmy gets reckless, forcefully pushing down the last few inches. His face contorts in pain as Armie's widest part pushes inside him. Armie is too late to grab Timmy's hips and still him.

He pulls him down into a soft kiss, brushing his hair back, mumbling against his temple: “Shhh... so beautiful... so gorgeous. Careful, sweetheart... we've got all the time in the world...”

Timmy sighs something inaudible.

“It's okay, love, it's okay. Breath. I want this to feel good for you.”

“Kiss me.”

Armie does, deep and languid.

It takes a few moments until Timmy tentatively rocks forward, circling his hips experimentally. Soon, his movements grow bolder until Armie dares to thrust up into him just a little. Timmy's mouth falls open with a silent scream.

“Good?” Armie asks.

Timmy can only nod.

They slowly speed up until Timmy is freely bouncing in Arie's lap, who has his arms wrapped tight around his light frame. Timmy's cock is trapped between them, rubbing against the soft hair below Armie's navel, so wet it leaves glistening stripes. Timmy's head is thrown back in pleasure while Armie holds onto his protruding shoulder blades. Usually, he'd be sucking on full breasts in this position but he's not missing them in the slightest. There's no doubt, he's fucking a man right now – a beautiful, amazing, trusting, lovely man – and he can't bring himself to feel dirty or bad for it. Something that feels so good can't be wrong.

Suddenly, as if in answer to an unspoken question, Timmy crushes his mouth to his, sucking on his tongue while raking his fingers through his short, blond hair. His whole body is trembling.

When they break apart for air, he moans against Armie's lips: “Please, just there, god, yes, please, fuck me...”

Armie grabs his hips, lifts him, and starts to pound into him in earnest. It doesn't take long afterwards until he can feel hot wetness spill against his stomach. He bites down on Timmy's sweat-slick shoulder as he pulses deep inside him, filling the condom with thick, white come.

They pant, sucking in shallow breaths until Armie lowers Timmy onto the mattress, carefully pulling out. Timmy tries to keep him inside, wrapping his long, spidery legs around his back, but Armie insists. 

“Do you want to end this night at A&E, having a slipped condom retrieved from your arse?” He asks, and that gets him Timmy's attention. They giggle as they pull apart, Timmy wincing slightly. The condom lands somewhere in the vicinity of the room before they cuddle together under the crumpled covers.

“You alright?” Armie asks.

“Me alright.” Timmy answers, throwing himself over Armie's chest, burying his nose into the coarse blond hair covering it.

They only have a few hours in each other's arms before Armie has to leave for the airport. He's flying back to LA today while Timmy stays in New York. He's working on another movie here, that will hopefully wrap before Christmas. It's great, being so busy, but the experience pales compared to what they had last summer; everything must.

Armie doesn't shower before leaving, keeping Timmy's scent on his skin for as long as possible. The night takes its toll, though, as he feels unable to face the bright New York morning without a pair of black shades, hiding his longing and confusion.

Timmy linger in bed a little while longer after Armie has left, smiling up at the ceiling while he watches the sun rise over his hometown. When he walks back to his apartment later, he feels the burn with every step, reminding him of the bliss he felt last night. He'll experience it for days to come, recalling again and again Armie's mouth against his, breathing his name as he came. Not Elio, not Oliver – but Timothee. 

Whatever this thing between them turns out to be – it is real. Raw and fragile and perhaps doomed – but real and honest all the same.


End file.
